


Proper Motivation

by FeelingFredly



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Shinigami, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, M/M, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Threesome - M/M/M, Workplace Relationship, no beta/no problem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-26 14:42:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17747804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeelingFredly/pseuds/FeelingFredly
Summary: Office politics aren't easy, and when your boyfriend is promoted instead of you it can mess with your self-confidence.  Breaking up because of it might not be the best idea, though, and letting your new-found insecurity affect your work is even worse.Or the one where Ichigo gets his ego stepped on and ends up getting more than kisses to make it better.





	Proper Motivation

**Author's Note:**

> HEAR YE, HEAR YE--THIS IS M/M/M PWP. No, really. I promise. No plot here.
> 
> It's still fun, though. ;)
> 
> For the record: The sex in this fic can be assumed to only have taken place AFTER a responsible discussion about health and well-being has taken place. Shinji and Ichigo were in a monogamous relationship before adding Kisuke, and Shinji would have made damn sure to check that adding a playmate would not endanger anyone's health. 
> 
> Be safe, people! If you don't know someone's history, don't chance it. Life isn't fanfic. ;)

“Kurosaki-san,” the office manager trotted after him, trying to divert him from his objective, probably remembering the last fight he and Shinji had had. “If you’d come with me, I’m sure we can find a solution to the problem.  Hirako-san never intended…”

That was one problem.  Ichigo knew that _Hirako-san_ had intended to humiliate him in front of their client. Ever since he’d been added to this project, the blond bastard had made it his mission to undermine him at every turn.  The other problem was he had no idea _why_ , but he was going to find out.  Today.

He pushed the door open without knocking, annoyed at the soft sound of jazz that emanated from the stereo near the windows.  Fucker was just chilling like he hadn’t just thrown Ichigo under the bus.

“What the hell was that?” He snarled the question out as he slammed the door, crossing the room in three steps.  Even corner offices weren’t that big. “Are you trying to get them to fire us? Or is it just me you want to screw with?”

If it weren’t for the blond hair Shinji Hirako could have played his body double. They were the same height, same size, same brown eyes, although where Ichigo was known for his perennial scowl, Shinji had his grin.  The grin he was wearing right now.  The grin Ichigo wanted to knock into next week.

“Ah, Ichigo-kun,” Shinji turned away from the vintage turntable he’d had installed the first week after his promotion to partner and smiled even wider.  Ichigo ground his teeth. “I wondered if I’d be seein’ you this afternoon.”

“I just bet you did.” He put his hands down and leaned over the desk. “Somehow I think it was pretty obvious that I’d be visiting you after the show you put on in the meeting this morning.”

Ichigo was furious. Shinji had treated him like the lowest skivvy during the conference. He’d spent three weeks working up an advertising campaign for Aizen Sosuke, and Shinji had ripped it to shreds.  In front of the client.  And their boss.

That account was going to get him his own corner office. Or it was before Shinji decided that since he couldn’t fuck him for real anymore, he’d just have to fuck him over at work.

“The show I put on? Don’t you mean the crap you brought to the table?” the music changed, and Ichigo frowned.  He recognized that album. It was one of Shinji’s date albums. What the fuck?

“Crap?” He clenched his fists on the desktop. “I analyzed every advertisement that Aizen has used over the past 5 years and based that campaign on the results of that algorithm.  He has a signature style that had to be incorporated…”

“A signature style?  What you presented today wasn’t a style.  It was like… knock-off cologne.” Shinji frowned. “It even came with the required headache.”

Ichigo drew in a breath through his nose and let it out slowly.  Punching a partner was not a good idea.  No matter how much the idea appealed on a personal level.

“Aizen Sosuke has a reputation of being conservative with his advertising,” he looked across the room where Shinji was now leaning against the stereo’s console. “I thought it made more sense to go with something that retained some of the motifs of the earlier projects.”

Shinji shook his head. “You didn’t retain some motifs.  You just regurgitated a pile of someone else’s work, stuck a few new bells and whistles on it and shoved it out there.”

The blond pushed off the stereo and stalked across the floor. “You’re mad at me?  I could say the same thing.  I agreed with Kisuke that you were the right person for this job.  But, just like every project you’ve put out since I was promoted instead of you, you choked.  You’re better than this Ichigo. I know you are.”

The anger in Shinji’s voice rocked Ichigo back on his heels, and then his own anger flared in response.

“You don’t get to talk to me like that, asshole,” he ground the words out, teeth clenched. “Just because I stopped screwing you when you got promoted doesn’t give you any right to take that attitude with me.  You wouldn’t talk like that to one of the other designers.  You can at least give me that much respect.”

Shinji slammed his hands down on the desk just outside Ichigo’s fists, their faces inches apart.  “I’m talking to you this way _because_ I respect you, you stupid prick.  You’re fucking brilliant.  You are a once in a lifetime talent at the drawing board.  You are _better than this_.”

Ichigo had just opened his mouth to argue when a noise behind him drew his attention.

“Fighting again?” The words were as bland as the speaker’s eyes were sharp. Great.  Like his day hadn’t been going badly enough, he was probably going to get censured for his behavior, or better yet, fired. Fuck.

Shinji backed away first.  “Just a difference of opinion, Kisuke-san.  I was telling Ichigo-san here how much I miss his creative fire.”

_Creative fire? You miss my cock, you bastard_ , Ichigo thought. _This is probably just a way to punish me for cutting you off_.

It wasn’t that he didn’t miss the relationship. He did. He and Shinji had been really good together, but after the blond was promoted things weren’t the same. Sure, it stung that he’d been passed over, but that wasn’t his problem. No, he just refused to be the guy that slept his way into a corner office.

“Ah, very good Shinji-san,” the blond stepped up behind Ichigo and paused. “But I thought we were going to wait and address this together.”

A warm hand rested in the small of Ichigo’s back and he startled a little at the contact.  Kisuke was always friendly, but rarely physical. He’d always kept a healthy distance between himself and his employees.

“We don’t want Ichigo-san to feel like we’re _ganging up on him_.”

He couldn’t suppress his cringe at the phrase, and Shinji gave him a knowing look. In the time they’d been together they’d played out several fantasies, more than a few involving the idea of their rather reclusive boss joining them, with one particular favorite of Ichigo’s having Shinji and the other man doing precisely that, taking turns doing everything Ichigo could imagine to him.

“Now, before we continue this discussion, I have some good news. The contract for Aizen Sosuke is still very much in the works, and you, Ichigo, will still be spearheading the campaign.  After the meeting this morning Aizen-san and I had a very productive conversation, and he is quite convinced that with the proper motivation your work will be exactly what he’s looking for.”

Ichigo’s shoulders sagged for a moment, the relief of not having completely screwed things up an almost physical thing. _Live to fight another day_ , he thought.

Kisuke walked around the him and dropped into the chair, letting his long legs stretch out. The fine gray wool of his trousers had an almost silvery sheen where they pulled across the muscles of his thighs, and Ichigo wondered how he’d never noticed how well-defined they were. Then he wondered how he was supposed to _stop_ noticing it, now that it had burned itself into his retinas.

Shinji stared at him.  His brown eyes were narrowed in focus, and Ichigo found himself fighting an urge to shift under his scrutiny, but he refused to give his ex-partner the satisfaction.

They stayed like that, silently, for an uncomfortable moment. Shinji didn’t move from where he was standing by the desk, which put the two blonds unusually close together. Ichigo thought they looked very…  comfortable that way, and he couldn’t say he liked that idea.

“Proper motivation?” Ichigo forced the words past the sudden lump in his throat and was pleased that his voice remained level. “I approach every project with the same motivation and intention to create the best content that I can. I don’t need you or _Hirako_ -san here to motivate me.”

Kisuke sighed and tilted the chair back a little, steepling his fingers in front of his lips. “Until recently, I would have agreed with that assessment.  It is one of the things I have found most satisfying about your work, Ichigo-san, the whole-hearted, unapologetic passion to bring to everything. It is why I hired you in the first place.”

It was the longest, most complimentary thing Kisuke had ever said to him, and he was saying it in the past tense. It was distressing. The fact that Shinji was standing there watching it happen made it even worse.

“Until recently?” Ichigo couldn’t keep the disappointment out of his voice, and Kisuke looked at him, gray eyes wide and dark, but didn’t speak. He touched Shinji’s back, a signal of some sort, and the blond nodded.

Shinji tapped a finger on the desk. “Why were you so pissed in the meeting when I started questioning your proposal?”

Ichigo across at him and snorted, distress instantly transmuted into anger. “Because you were being an asshole.”

Kisuke couldn’t stop a laugh from escaping, and Shinji sighed, clearly frustrated to have to deal with two troublemakers.  “I’ve been an asshole before.  That’s what I do.  I find problems and I point them out.  I point out the things a client might stumble over or worry about.  But today when I did it you got mad.  You didn’t defend your ideas, you defended _yourself_.  If you’d believed in your work you wouldn’t have liked my questions, but you would have defended the project without thinking twice.”

Ichigo couldn’t deny that there was some truth in what Shinji was saying.  He knew he’d played it a little safe on the Aizen project, but he’d felt it was simply too important to gamble on.  He felt like he’d lost so much recently, he just didn’t want to risk any more.

Kisuke leaned forward, his shoulder now pressing against the side of Shinji’s thigh. “What you presented today was perfectly reasonable.  It worked on some levels, and failed on others, but the one thing that was most clear to me throughout the whole meeting was that you had retreated somehow from the challenge presented to you.  It was bland.  Boring.  And you, I-chi-go,” Kisuke’s voice dropped a little and he looked at him, eyes half-lidded, head tilted, “are not bland or boring.”

Ichigo shifted under the additional weight of that gaze, feeling more than a little shaken.

Shinji walked around the desk and stood close, crowding him.  “What you are,” he said, leaning in so Ichigo could smell the lemon drop candy that he loved on his breath, “is _scared_ , and I’m just about sick of it.”

His eyes dropped to Ichigo’s slightly parted lips and he paused. “Where’s that fuck you attitude now, Ichigo?  Hmm?” He leaned even closer, tilting his head so he could breathe in Ichigo’s scent, and he sighed. “What do I have to do to bring my fire-breather back?”

Ichigo’s head was spinning.  This was not happening.  He’d hit the conference room mini bar after the meeting and was currently drunkenly hallucinating.  There was no other explanation.

“I don’t…” he started, and then flinched as Kisuke stepped up behind him, crowding as close to his back as Shinji was to his front.

“See,” the man murmured, close enough to his ear to send ripples of goose bumps across his skin, “that is the problem right there.  You keep saying you don’t, you can’t, you shouldn’t.  Why don’t you flip the script?  The Ichigo Kurosaki I hired never took no for an answer.  Never gave up.  Never gave in.”  Long fingers lightly skimmed his elbow. “Never turned away from a risk if the reward was great enough.”

Ichigo looked at Shinji, still so close to his face, and the angry expression was gone, replaced by a smirk that Ichigo both loved and hated.  He was an insufferable bastard, but somehow, he made it work for him.

“I can hear the wheels turning in that ginger head of yours,” Shinji nodded. “That’s a good sign.” He laughed a little breathlessly.  “Thought we might’a broken you there for a minute.”

Ichigo nodded.  He wouldn’t argue with that.  He was feeling more than a little shattered, honestly.

Then the all-encompassing heat of the two blonds was gone, leaving Ichigo feeling cold and alone, but the glimmer of warmth was still in their eyes as they looked at him. Kisuke smiled and stepped away, walking toward the door with a noticeable bulge now tenting the shimmering fabric of his trousers.

“So, Ichigo,” he stopped with his hand on the doorknob, smile still quirking the corners of his lips. “I haven’t gotten my hands dirty on a project in a while, and I was thinking that if you would like some input you and Shinji could come over for dinner tomorrow evening.  We could see about getting some of these mental roadblocks out of the way.”

Kisuke cocked his head to one side, watching to see Ichigo’s reaction as the double meaning of everything he was saying sank in.

“If you have other plans, though, I completely understand.  You’re perfectly capable of handling the account yourself, I just think it might be interesting to compare styles and experience.  You never know,” he grinned, and it made him look young and carefree, “you might learn something.”

Ichigo looked at Shinji and the blond gave a noncommittal shrug.  This was totally up to Ichigo.  Suddenly he was tired, tired of pushing Shinji away, tired of playing it safe, tired of feeling second best, and he took a deep breath, looking into Kisuke’s eyes without hesitation before taking the plunge.

“You know,” he said, nodding for emphasis, “dinner sounds good.  A little help thinking outside the box might be just what I need.”

***

Where The Thirteen’s offices were a model of modern design and cutting edge advertising, Kisuke’s house was the opposite.  Everything was muted, subtle greens and grays over ebony floors, with low cushions and tables and soft rugs on the floor.  It suited its owner, beautiful and quiet with a certain strength of style.

Ichigo thought of his own apartment with its towers of books and chaotic jumble of art supplies. the drafting table that took up half his dining room, and he wondered if that was what he was like. Obsessive interests that he kept close so he could grab them on a second’s impulse, always reaching for the next idea, the next piece of information.

He took a drink of the beer he’d been given and looked at the men sitting across from him and realized that this, too, could quickly become an obsession if he let it.

They’d had a pleasant dinner and discussed the campaign some, both blonds pleased with some of the new ideas that he’d come up with after allowing all the energy swamping him to bubble up to the surface, but they all knew that what was coming next.

After Kisuke had left the office Ichigo had turned on Shinji, demanding answers. _No, I haven’t slept with him yet_. and _Yes, he already knew we were involved_. and _Yes, I meant it when I said you were brilliant._ and perhaps most importantly _Because I want you, and you want him, and he wants us. Does it need to be any more than that for now?_

No. Not for now. But as he looked at the blonds sitting across from him, their faces intent and intelligent, arguing over some facet of the finer points of marketing and manipulation, Ichigo could see it mattering in the future.

He could see it mattering a lot.

“You’re awfully quiet, Ichigo.” Shinji’d leaned to one side, watching him while he’d been lost in thought, and Ichigo felt heat as a blush bloomed, something he’d never outgrown, no matter how much he tried.

“Just thinking.”  He took a long pull of his Kirin before carefully put the bottle down, looking at Shinji who was trying not to smirk and failing.

“About?” Kisuke was the picture of gracious leisure, gray pants that were just tight enough to suggest the curves and dips of muscles and an impossibly soft black v-neck sweater that accented the pale column of his throat, and Ichigo marveled that anything could look as good on him as the tailored suits he always wore to the office. “Something I can help you with?”

Ichigo had thought long and hard about the accusation that he’d retreated from the challenges in his life, and he’d concluded that the next time he didn’t know what to do, he was just going to jump in.

So, he jumped.

Three steps covered the space in between them, and then he was there, sharing the blond’s space and his breath, the sudden intake of Shinji’s breath behind him driving his determination that much higher.  He raised his hand and cupped Kisuke’s chin, lifting it slightly.

“Yes.”

The whispered word was all that was necessary.  The gates opened, and all his hesitation dropped away leaving just the aching want inside him.  His blood sang with anticipation, the rush of a roller coaster, a thrill ride that had no down side. No matter what happened between them he wouldn’t regret it.

He pulled at Kisuke’s nape, the force tilting his head back a fraction, and Ichigo pressed their lips together gently, not touching any other part of his body.  Blond stubble prickled under his thumb and he smelled the suede and cedar scent of Kisuke’s cologne, his senses trying to combine them in a way that would come to signify him the way lemon drops and the twisty rhythms of jazz meant Shinji.  He pressed closer, his lips open, working his way along the hard line of Kisuke’s jaw until he could whisper in his ear.

“Wanna get your hands dirty?” he grinned to himself as he remembered Kisuke’s double entendre.  He wasn’t nearly that subtle.

Kisuke didn’t seem to mind. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Long-fingered hands gripped his hips, pulling him forward until he was straddling the older man, proof of his interest hard and hot against the inside of Ichigo’s thigh.

“Fuck.”

“We’ll get to that soon enough, Ichi,” Shinji’s voice was a gruff whisper in his ear, the faint press of his lips against the sensitive shell sending shivers through the redhead. “We’ve got all night.”

All night.  That sounded good.

Shinji was pressed so hotly against his back it felt like there was nothing between them already, his hands a promise of more to come, his words ghosting across Ichigo’s neck, ruffling the fine hair there.

Kisuke’s hand slid under the hem of his shirt, teasing along his ribs until he shivered, and then scraping lightly over his hardened nipples.

“Shit,” Ichigo gasped, arching into the almost pain, torn between enough and too much. “Do that again.”

Shinji laughed darkly. “I think he likes it.” His fingers joined Kisuke’s in teasing the tiny buds, hard coral tips turning red under their ministrations, and then moved south into more dangerous territory.

Ichigo’s head fell back, resting on Shinji’s shoulder, mouth open and panting. “You know, it’ll be your turn soon enough.”

Suddenly his shirt was gone and the fingers on his nipples were replaced by the wet heat of Kisuke’s mouth, teeth worrying the hardened nubs, biting down and tugging, every movement sending shock waves through Ichigo’s nervous system.

Ichigo could feel the grin against his skin before Shinji bit his shoulder with sharp white teeth.  “Threatening me with a good time, Ichigo?”

A hot hand pressed firmly against his cock through the placket of his slacks, and the redhead moaned. “Just a friendly reminder to play nice.”

Kisuke raised up and sank his own teeth into the skin above Ichigo’s clavicle. “Now, why on earth would we agree to that?” His tongue soothed the sharp sting his teeth had left behind. “ _Nice_ is definitely not what I’m aiming for tonight. What about you Shinji?”

Hot breath filled his ear. “No, Kisuke,” he said, rolling his hips against Ichigo’s ass, “nice is not on my agenda.”

Ichigo looked over his shoulder at his on-again lover and marveled at the heat in his gaze.  Shinji looked like he wanted to devour him whole.

“God I’ve missed you,” the words cut through the fog that filled Ichigo’s head and warmth burst in his chest.  To think he might have missed this, missed him due to stupid pride.

“Ah, Shinj,” he whispered and tilted his head back for a kiss. Shinji’s face was smooth compared to Kisuke’s stubble, his lips thin and smooth instead of chapped, but the kiss was just as entrancing.  Just as breathtaking.

Ichigo let himself get lost in the dizzying sensations of mobile lips and questing tongue.  There was something special about kissing Shinji.  His tongue ring had been a shock the first time Ichigo had encountered it, exotic and entrancing, and the fascination hadn’t faded with time.  He could do wicked things with that tongue, and Ichigo intended to let him. And then he intended to return the favor. But first…

“Move,” he said, pushing a surprised Kisuke back. “Bedroom.” He leaned down and nipped at Kisuke’s lips, reveling in the glossy gray of his eyes. “Now.”

The three of them moved in a tangle of limbs, hands refusing to completely let go even as they haphazardly shed layers as they moved down the hall.

Kisuke led the way.  He’d lost his sweater and his slacks were missing their button, a casualty of Ichigo’s over-enthusiastic exploration.  His torso was all heart-breaking angles and smooth planes, the skin too perfect to be real, and seeing Shinji’s golden tan skin beside him made Ichigo want to draw them, to capture their sunlight and moonlight so that in the years to come he couldn’t forget the beauty of the pair.

Shinji tugged his hand, “Don’t get lost now,” he said.  Ichigo let himself be dragged, closing one hand over Shinji’s hip and squeezing, feeling a tremble in the tight muscles under his fingers.  This was affecting him more than he’d ever tell, but Ichigo could read the wideness of his eyes and the flush on his skin and knew that Shinji wanted this as much as he did.

“No worries,” the smile was audible in Kisuke’s voice, “I believe we’ve made it to our destination.”

“Thank God,” Shinji muttered, and suddenly Ichigo found himself falling, shoved unceremoniously onto the bed.   

Kisuke stood to one side, watching the action, and a wicked little smile twisted his lips. “That’s one way to do it.”  He took two steps forward, forcing Ichigo to spread his legs as he got closer, and he leaned down and dragged one finger down the length of his bare chest, sternum, abs, navel, inexorably following the dips and valleys until with the tiniest pressure he popped open the button on Ichigo’s worn jeans.

“Any second thoughts?” he asked, fingertip just barely touching the head of Ichigo’s cock through the fabric.

Ichigo reached up and took Kisuke’s hand, guiding it to the zipper and using his own hand to coax him along. “None.” His cock sprang immediately free showing he’d opted to ditch boxers in favor of easy access for the evening.

“Well, that’s an unexpected treat,” Kisuke blinked and rocked back on his heels to take it all in. “Already wet and eager for us, Shinji. Look.”

A curtain of golden hair parted showing one of Shinji’s razor sharp grins. “Just wait until he really gets into it.” The teasing voice dropped. “Cock gets so slick you can barely hold onto it.  Dripping, needy thing it is.”

Kisuke dropped to his knees by the side of the bed.  “That just leaves the question: does he taste as good as he looks?”

He didn’t hesitate or tease, he just opened his lips and swallowed Ichigo down to his base, the incredible heat shorting out any smart remark the redhead might have made. He gave Ichigo a moment to experience the sensation, and then slid back up until he was just holding the tip between his lips, circling with his tongue, and then teasing the slit before sliding all the way back down and starting over again.

Shinji slid onto the bed behind him, legs bare, hard cock tight against his belly. “Lift up for me, Ichi, hmmm?” He lifted Ichigo’s shoulders, propping him up against his chest, the warm skin against his back a wonderful accompaniment to the hot mouth around his cock.

“Fuck, that looks amazing.” Shinji dragged his piercing along Ichigo’s ear, sending his nervous system even further into overload. “Your cock is all the way down his throat, isn’t it? He’s swallowing you whole.  Going to suck you until you can’t stand it, and then pull off and tease you until you beg him to do it again.”

Ichigo could imagine it.  Kisuke was someone who liked to be in control.  He wasn’t pushy or loud, but he was sharp, and he was always two steps ahead of everyone else in the room.

Shinji’s cock was pressed tight against the small of Ichigo’s back, tan legs cradling him, and he dug his fingers into the blond’s knees at a particularly forceful pull from Kisuke that made dark spots dance behind his eyelids.

“Fuck Kisuke,” the words felt like they were pulled out of him and his head fell back onto Shinji’s shoulder, “so good.  Oh God, so good.”

Shinji handed something across to the blond between his legs, and Ichigo tried to open his eyes to see what they were doing.

“Just relax, Ichigo,” Shinji’s voice was soothing, and he dragged two finger tips up each side of Ichigo’s chest, gently scoring the skin with his nails, and Ichigo arched back, silently begging for another kiss, rocking his hips a little to push deeper into Kisuke’s marvelous mouth, riding the rapids of sensation that were just on the verge of pushing him over and dragging him under. “It feels good, yeah?  Well, it’s going to feel even better.  Trust me.”

Suddenly there were slick fingers pressing into him, warm and insistent, their rhythm an almost perfect counterpoint to the continued assault Kisuke was making on his cock.  Sucking down, and then pushing in, pulling back and then an insistent twist along the inside of his rim. Ichigo couldn’t help himself. He thrust his hands into Kisuke’s hair to try to make him move, loving the sudden widening of his gray eyes as his tug brought with it a flash of pleasure/pain. Then the fingers in his ass were moving faster, deeper, with a little curl that hit that magic spot that caused Ichigo to buck deeper into Kisuke’s throat with a hiss.

“I’m going to—Kisuke, I’m—”

Kisuke pushed him even higher, sucking harder, cheeks hollowed out as he stared up into his eyes, and Ichigo gave up on his pointless scrabble for control and tumbled over the edge.

 

***

Ichigo flopped there, every muscle in his body twitching from the power of his release, only faintly aware of his surroundings—the warmth of the room, the sweat drying on his skin—and then the edge of the bed dipped as Kisuke rose between his knees and leaned over him.

His thin pink lips were now red and swollen, shiny with mixed saliva and come.  His eyes were glazed with tears from Ichigo’s reflexive thrusts deeper into his mouth, and his hair was like wild cornsilk framing his face.

He was amazing.

“Come here,” Shinji’s voice was rough beside his ear, and Ichigo started to shift when he realized he wasn’t who was being asked for.

Kisuke knelt up, legs spread to either side of Ichigo’s knees, just touching Shinji’s calves where he was wrapped around Ichigo from behind and they leaned forward into a hungry kiss just over his shoulder.

He could feel the shudder that raced through Shinji where they were pressed together.  They shared the taste of him, and he moaned, as Shinji’s tongue ring flickered in and out of sight as he searched every corner of Kisuke’s mouth.

Straddled like that, Kisuke’s cock was gloriously evident. His head was shiny and dark pink against the rest of his pale skin, and when Ichigo breathed across the wet tip it jerked, silently begging for more contact.

He leaned into it, pinning it between them, and ground his semi-soft length against it, letting Kisuke rut against him as his mouth was taken again and again by Shinji.  There was a stripe of wetness along his lower back where Shinji’s cock was leaking against him, and he reveled in the scent and feel and overwhelming need of the men bookending him.

The blonds parted, panting.

“That looks fucking amazing.”  Ichigo stared at them, comestruck and still somehow hungry. He reached up to cup Kisuke’s chin, tugging his chin down a little so their eyes met. “But I want more.”

“Don’t you always,” Shinji laughed a little behind him and Ichigo stuck his lip out in a mock pout.

“You’ve never complained before.”

Shinji rested the sharp point of his chin in the dip where Ichigo’s shoulder muscle met his collar bone.

“I’m not complaining now,” he said, sharing a knowing look with Kisuke. “I’m just saying you’re a greedy fuck.”

Ichigo nudged the legs trapping him to let him out and slid around until he was arched against Kisuke’s back. His reawakened length lodged between the cheeks of Kisuke’s ass and he reached around to wrap his fist around his still weeping cock.

“Then you know better than to fight me,” he said, pumping his hips slowly, enjoying the friction and the mewling noises he was drawing from the taller blond. “I’m going to get what I want.  And I’m going to do it by giving…  you…  what… you…  want.”

Every word was punctuated by a snap of the hips and a twist of the hand surrounding his cock.

Kisuke was a writhing, needy mess.  His lips still red from cocksucking.  His breath coming in hot pants.  “Please…”

“Please what, Kisuke?” Ichigo didn’t even pause, his rhythm demanding a response from the man in his grip.

“Fuck me.” Kisuke dropped his head onto Shinji’s shoulder, using the other blond to hold him up when his muscles finally gave up. “Please, just fuck me.”

“Gladly.” Ichigo barely recognized his own voice.  The bottle of lubricant Kisuke had used to finger-fuck him was still on the bed, and in two seconds he’d pulled back, slicked his own fingers and slipped two of them inside the gorgeous ass before him.

Ichigo pressed the inside of Kisuke’s thigh with his knee, forcing the blond to spread his legs wide. Watching his heavy balls sway with the movement was just an added bonus.

“I’m going to suck these later,” he said, trailing fingers from his unoccupied hand over the lightly furred sac. “Roll them in my mouth.  Suck them and lick them.” He leaned closer and hummed. “I can hardly wait.”

He pushed further inside, the heat around his fingers intense, the inner skin smooth and satiny against his slicked fingers. He moved, in and out, slowly stretching Kisuke’s ass wider and wider until he’d fit three fingers and the tip of his pinkie inside the man.

“Fuck, Shinji,” he said, interrupting the blonds kissing. “I could probably fist him.  Look.  I’ve almost got four fingers in him, and his asshole is just fluttering and hungry against me.”

Shinji leaned over to look and groaned.  “Kisuke,” he said, his voice gravelly, “you’ve been holding out on me.  Did you think we wouldn’t figure it out?  Figure you wouldn’t get that lovely little asshole stuffed?”

“No-o-ooo,” Kisuke huffed the words out as Ichigo kept pumping and stretching him. “Didn’t know if you two would want…”

Ichigo leaned forward. “Oh, I want.” He bit down on the closest skin he could reach, leaving a purpling mark on Kisuke’s flank. “And I intend to have.  Maybe not tonight, but it’s mine, and I’m going to take it, shove my hand as far into your ass as you can take it. You know that right?”

Kisuke nodded.

“Words, please,” Shinji leaned in and kissed the other blond’s open mouth. “Wouldn’t want any misunderstandings you know.”

Kisuke moaned under the continued assault. “It’s yours. You’re going to,” he forced himself to swallow, “shove your hand in my ass. _Fuck_.” Kisuke jumped as Ichigo pressed his prostate, pushing against it and then rubbing it in tiny, mind-bending circles, all while Shinji consumed him with kisses.

Ichigo watched Shinji play with the older man, and then grinned as Shinji’s hand disappeared between them to tease Kisuke’s neglected cock while the redhead finished prepping his ass.

“I could help you with this,” Shinji said, gently wrapped his hand around Kisuke’s erection. Ichigo guessed he was thumbing through the pool of slick gathered at the tip, pumping up and down slowly, and Ichigo watched in his mind’s eye as the slit in the top opened and closed with each movement, new pearls of precum appearing with each stroke.

Ichigo loved the feel of cock in his hand, loved the way the foreskin pulled back slowly, loved the accumulating wetness as desire overpowered any other thought in his partner’s brain, but Shinji was a master of it.

Ichigo was better at fucking.  He placed his cock carefully at Kisuke's entrance, nudging gently, and slid in.

Kisuke sucked in a stuttering breath and Ichigo didn’t know whether it was from his cock in Kisuke’s ass, or Shinji’s hand on his dick.  It didn’t matter.  All that mattered was the feeling.  He kept pushing, ever forward, feeling himself completely swallowed by Kisuke’s heat. When he could go no farther, he leaned forward and rested his forehead against his sweat covered back pausing for a moment to allow the blond to get used to the intrusion.

“Fucking amazing,” he said, kissing the salty skin, “so hot and tight.  I could just stay here all night.  Leave you full forever.”

Something about that resonated with Kisuke, because he was wracked with a full body shudder. Slowly at first, Ichigo pulled out and pushed back in. He enjoyed the tightness, feeling the muscles ripple over him like a rolling wave, and then he picked up his pace a little as Kisuke began rocking back into him.

“Maybe we should just fill him with come and put a nice big plug in his ass,” Shinji was still pumping Kisuke’s cock, but he said it like he was pondering what to order for lunch. “Let him think about how full he is, about the sticky white stuff painting his insides, about how everyone could find out what a needy, come hungry hole he has if he isn’t careful.”

That did it.  Kisuke opened his mouth and howled. Shinji’s hand sped up, setting a brutal pace on his cock, and Ichigo began to fuck his ass hard and deep, pulling out almost all the way before snapping his hips back in, again and again.  Harder and harder he fucked him, Kisuke babbling and begging as every drop come was drawn out of him, until Ichigo felt his own climax approach.  He wrapped his arms tightly around Kisuke’s middle and lifted him, slamming him up and down on his cock as Kisuke came, his climax causing his muscles to clench fiercely around Ichigo’s cock. Ichigo followed him over the precipice, coming in pulse after pulse until he could hear nothing but the roar of the blood in his ears and see nothing but a whiteout before his eyes.

Shinji looked at the two of them and shook his head, stunned. “Should tie you both down now while you’re fucked out and helpless.  Gorgeous, come-stained, and now,” he pulled Kisuke further up the bed and kissed him gently, “mine.”

Ichigo opened his eyes and watched the two men carefully touching.  Shinji had always been a possessive bastard, but he couldn’t deny that the idea of _Mine_ was terribly appealing to him, too.

Shinji’s erection hadn’t flagged.  If anything, it was even darker than before, the flushed coral of its tip warm against the gold of his skin, and Ichigo scooted up the bed and put himself between Shinji’s legs for better access.  He kissed the tip and tongued under the ridge, listening for the quickened breathing that would let him know Shinji was with him.

“Can’t you see I’m trying to kiss Kisuke through his afterglow?” Kisuke laughed at that, a tired but happy sound, and Ichigo dropped another kiss along the inside of Shinji’s thigh.

“I think he just wants to make sure that you’ve been taken care of as well, Shinji.” Kisuke threaded fingers in Shinji’s hair, sliding through its silky length and pulled him into another kiss.

Ichigo hummed a noise of agreement and slid further up to nuzzle the soft spot where Shinji’s groin creased, the spicy scent of him a fantastic and familiar thing.

Shinji rested his hand on Ichigo’s softly spiky hair. “Is that right, Ich? You going to take away the ache?” He released his hold on Kisuke and slid down, tightening his fingers in Ichigo’s hair, and staring into his amber eyes. “Because I do. I ache for you, you bastard.”

Something flared between them, and the gentle teasing switched gears faster than they could say the words.  Lips and teeth and hands fought for territory, kissing and biting and touching, giving in to every want, every craving, and then going back for more.

Kisuke slid to one side of the bed to make room for them, or to make sure he didn’t catch an overenthusiastic elbow in the jaw and watched his new partners.  He reached down for the lube and pressed the little bottle into Shinji’s questing fingers, its presence a wordless suggestion.

“What?” Shinji stopped and looked at the bottle, taking a nanosecond to recognize its purpose, and then a grin split his face. “Oh yeah.  Very good idea Kisuke.”  He kissed Ichigo again forcefully, and then flipped him onto his knees. He shoved a couple of pillows under his hips and dragged his nails along his spine until he reached Ichigo’s ass.

“Don’t you think this is a good idea, Ich?” He teased the redhead’s still slick hole, slipping two fingers in as he dripped more lubricant on them, never slowing down.

“Fuck,” Ichigo moaned into the pillow. “Harder.”

“Always so bossy.” Shinji teased but gave it to him harder, adding a third finger, insistently stretching the resistant ring of muscle.  He knew Ichigo could handle quite a bit of pain, and honestly probably preferred it that way, but he didn’t want to injure him. “You’ll get what I give you and you’ll be happy for it.”

Ichigo made a muffled sound of argument that died as Shinji found his prostate and prodded it insistently, every press dragging out another strangled sound from his lover.

“Please,” Ichigo was breathless and aching, his ass was empty, hungry, and all he wanted was for Shinji to fill him, to fuck him. “Shinji, _please_.”

Shinji slicked his cock and pressed the blunt tip against Ichigo’s entrance, teasing, pressing, and then snapping his hips forward and sinking into the redhead until he bottomed out.

He paused then, not wanting to come too soon from the incredible sensation of Ichigo’s ass squeezing him tightly, but after a moment he found his rhythm, sliding into the familiar body, but watching with added fascination as Kisuke leaned in and kissed him.

It was amazing—everything he’d ever dreamed it could be—and he had no intention of going back now.

“Yee-e-esss…” he rocked faster, aiming for Ichigo’s prostate with each stroke, and every cry, every groan, every spark of feeling just pushed him higher and higher until he lost control and flew into the sun.

***

 

“I must say, Kurosaki-san,” Aizen Sosuke flipped through Ichigo’s proposal, every sketch new, every set of statistics backed up with pages of research, “this is truly impressive. It is more than I ever hoped for, even after my discussion with Urahara-san after our last meeting.”

Ichigo stepped away from the digital display and set down the remote he’d been using during the visual part of his presentation.

“That is very kind of you, Aizen-san.” Ichigo gave a little bow. “I admit, my last offering was too traditional.  Perhaps even a little derivative.  However, once I realized that you were willing to push beyond the standard advertising model, I was able to open doors that I’d never even considered before.  It was an…  exhilarating project.”

Aizen continued to page through the documents on the table, making a few notes as he hummed under his breath.

“It is exactly as you said, Urahara-san,” he said, as they finally reached the end of the meeting.  “I am very glad you convinced me to give Kurosaki-san another chance.”

Kisuke and Ichigo nodded briefly before the silver-haired man led Aizen from the room discussing more details about the new contract, leaving Ichigo alone with Shinji.

“Feels good, doesn’t it Ichigo?” Shinji asked, coming up behind the redhead and placing a hand on his hip. “Letting that brilliant mind shine.”

Ichigo turned in his loose embrace and kissed Shinji with no hesitance.

“It certainly does,” he said, coming up for air and meeting Shinji’s glittering gaze. “I will never argue against you and Kisuke providing _proper motivation_ for me again.”

 

And he didn’t.

 


End file.
